


Two Celestials and A Baby

by gloriouscacophony (KatrinaKay)



Series: Ineffable Husbands Week 2019 - SFW [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Babysitting, Bedtime Stories, Domestic Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Smooching, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 14:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20547662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatrinaKay/pseuds/gloriouscacophony
Summary: Ineffable Husbands Week - Day 5: Battle/Fight/ArgueIn which Aziraphale and Crowley babysit Deliverance, Newt and Anathema's daughter. Cookie-baking, duck-feeding, and bedtime-story-reading ensue.





	Two Celestials and A Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Please go check out [the AMAZING illustration](twitter.com/am_a_loaf/status/1185830904305860608) for this fic created by [@am_a_loaf](https://twitter.com/am_a_loaf) ♥️♥️♥️

“_Absolutely not_.”

“Oh, c’mon, you saw her face. Is that a face that’s going to cause any trouble?” Crowley whines at Aziraphale, gesturing back towards the cottage where Newt, Anathema, and their daughter wait.

“It’s not just her I’m worried about. You seem awfully enthusiastic about this whole idea,” Aziraphale says with a pout. “And what about my books? What if she uses them as a stool or breaks their bindings or—”

“Angel, it’ll be fine, I promise. It’s just for a month while they go visit Anathema’s mum in America. You’ll barely notice she’s around.” (_“We’d really feel more comfortable,” Anathema had told Crowley, when they’d got down to business after pleasantries and tea, “having you and Aziraphale take care of Deliverance while we’re away. I’ve read a few unsettling omens on the wind, and...I have this feeling that there’s no place where she’ll be safer.”) _

“I think you’re forgetting the last time we were godfathers, and how well that _ didn’t _ turn out. But...I suppose,” the angel says, softening when he sees the earnest expression on Crowley’s face, “If it’s only for a few weeks—oof—”

The air is knocked from his lungs when Crowley leaps at him in a grateful hug. There’s a slight electric crackle between them as the demon realizes what he’s done and pulls away, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but at the angel. “Sorry. Er, let’s go tell them, shall we?”

He turns and strides purposefully back into the cottage, leaving Aziraphale struck dumb on the lawn, wondering just what the heaven Crowley was getting them into.  
  


* * *

  
Aziraphale is frankly quite surprised that Crowley doesn’t make a fuss about all the toddler gear loaded into the backseat of his new car, along with said toddler in her car seat. He glances back at Deliverance (whose full name followed the family tradition: Deliverance Tenacity Device-Pulsifer) in the rear view mirror as they make their way onto the main road, at a speed that’s a bit slower than Crowley’s usual breakneck pedal-pushing.

They’d both lived in close proximity to Warlock’s family in the years before the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t, but the angel had spent most of his time as Brother Francis puttering around out in the gardens, doing his best to tend to the plants enough to not risk Crowley’s (or rather, Nanny’s) wrath. (_“You’re letting them take advantage of you, look at that droopy one there!” “It’s just had been hot lately, the poor thing can’t help it!”_) The demon nursemaid had been the one to care for Warlock day in and day out, making sure he was fed and clothed and educated on the ways of the Deceiver and Lucifer's plans to dominate all of creation. Of course, children were a wonder and a delight and a miracle of the Lord, but a _ child_… Her wide hazel eyes met his in the mirror with a curiously penetrating gaze that unnerved him.

“Do they always...stare like that?” he asked Crowley, but the demon looked back at the girl and shrugged.

“Sometimes. The world’s a scary place when you’re new to it. You remember that time, right after the Garden, when you first went to a city? Tons of people everywhere, all that yelling and dust and chaos? ‘S kind of like that when you’re a young human.”

“Well, it’s creepy.” 

“Aww, did the tiny defenseless human look at the big strong angel all funny?” Crowley says, mocking him with a sharp-toothed smirk, stopping at a traffic light for the first time Aziraphale can remember in a very long time.

“I don’t like it.”

“You’ll get used to it. Besides, we’re almost home.”

Aziraphale turns to look out the window. He’s pouting, but can’t stop the flutter that kicks through him. _ Home. Our home. Where we live together. _ Even after a few years, his delight at cohabitating with his best friend in the entire universe is irrepressible. He hides the small grin that sneaks through. Crowley will tease him for sure if he sees.  
  


* * *

  
They’re all fine until the first night, when Deliverance realizes that her day away from Mummy and Daddy is more than just a fun day out with her godparents and now it’s dark and scary in the new place full of her toys and books.

“No, don’t _ want _bed! Want Mummy! Want Daaaaaaddy,” she wails, small face red and tear-streaked when Aziraphale tries to herd her into the new room they’ve added to the house for her.

“Don’t you worry, they’ll be back soon, they’ve just gone to see Grandma in America. In the meantime, Uncle Crowley and I will look after you,” Aziraphale tells her, wiping the tears from her face with a cool, light touch of grace as he tries to hoist her up into his arms.

But she squirms and thrashed until he has to put her down or drop her. “Nooooo, want MUMMY!” The distraught sounds turn to choking sobs as she rejects his offers to watch telly or read a book before bed, and Aziraphale has no idea what to do other than pat her back gently as he waits for Crowley to return with groceries. (_“Crowley, we can’t feed her conjured food—she needs nutrients, real ones.”_)

Deliverance is still wailing and sobbing when the demon appears with a flutter of invisible wings, arms full of paper sacks from the health-food grocer Anathema had left on her list of resources for them and a befuddled look at the scene before him.

“Crowley, oh thank heavens! The poor thing won’t stop crying for her mummy, and I’ve tried everything, but she’s so upset a-and—”

“‘S all right, angel, she’s just tired. Lemme put these away—” An instant later, the bags and their contents vanish to the kitchen. “—and we’ll get this sorted.”

He crouches down next to Deliverance and quirks his head at her where she’s lying on the rug. “Hello, Livy,” he says calmly, and she hiccups, turning to eye him balefully from under her curtain of dark curly hair.

“‘Lo, Crowy. I want Mummy.”

“I know, dearest. She’ll be back soon, but in the meantime, would you like a treat before bedtime? And then maybe Mr. Aziraphale can read you one of his bedtime stories? They’re very good, you know,” he says, leaning in as though he’s telling her a secret. 

Aziraphale wonders if Crowley has some sort of mesmerization powers from his demonic nature, a kinship to snakes that hypnotize their prey into acquiescence, because Deliverance sniffles a bit but says okay and wobbles to her feet. The angel pulls out his handkerchief and dries her face, and the three of them stroll to the kitchen, the girl holding Crowley’s hand with her small, sticky fingers.

After a few spoonfuls of Devil’s Food Chocolate ice cream, and a quick pass of grace to remove the remnants of the treat from her hair, face, and hands, she follows the angel and demon to the new guest room. (Crowley had conjured up the furniture earlier, but Aziraphale had expressly rejected his choice of decor, changing the black and purple color scheme to lavender and green and decorating everything with happy pictures of flowers and butterflies. They had both agreed, though, to add some of those glow-in-the-dark star stickers to the ceiling, which Crowley had happily rearranged to match one of the constellations he’d designed eons ago pre-Fall. Seeing it made Aziraphale’s heart ache with a pang of long-present pity.)

“Ooh, this chair is quite comfortable, Crowley, thank you,” the angel said as he settled into the new, generously padded armchair with a book of fairy tales (Anathema and Newt had both explicitly forbidden any Bible stories).

“‘Nake, Uncle Crowy,” Deliverance demands after the demon has tucked her into bed. “Pease.”

Crowley obliges, transforming with a sibilant hiss into a large black and copper serpent that winds its way up the bedpost to coil on the duvet between her and Aziraphale, his tongue flicking out to taste the air. This alternate form still unnerved her parents on the occasions they encountered it, but Deliverance adored it. (Being raised by a witch and witchfinder, she loved all manner of slimy creatures and insects, as well as the typical fluffy variety of puppies, kitties, and rabbits.)

Aziraphale has found the story he’d been searching for, his favorite in _ The Young Folks Book Shelf Junior Classics, Volume 1: Fairy Tales and Fables_. It was a strange, grim story, but it had a happy ending with plenty of repentance. Deliverance was soothed by the angel’s soft, steady tone, her eyes drooping as he read:

“... a woman was standing beside her, who said, ‘Why art thou weeping, little Two-eyes?’... Then the wise woman said, ‘Wipe away thy tears, Two-eyes, and I will tell thee something to stop thee ever suffering from hunger again’…”  
  


* * *

  
They walked in St. James Park, where Deliverance attempted to feed the ducks but ended up mostly throwing the bits of bread onto her own feet, until Aziraphale miracled up a little breeze that wafted the lighter bits to the water, where it was eagerly devoured to the girl’s delight. She toddled back and forth across the path, stopping to investigate and prod at flowers and rocks and bits of sticks, shrieking and babbling in her own language that even the two celestial beings couldn’t decipher (it was, after all, _ her _language). When she grew tired, she stood in place, arms outstretched to Crowley, until he hoisted her up to ride on his thin shoulders. “Hey, watch the wings up there,” he mock-grumbled, and Livy giggled, kicking his collarbones.

The girl was still shy of Aziraphale, studying him skeptically when he tried to engage her the same way as Crowley did. “Kids can sense intent,” Crowley told him one night, as they sipped nightcaps in front of the fire at home after Livy had been put to bed. “They can tell when you’re trying too hard.”

“That’s terrifying,” Aziraphale replied, swirling his wine (a lovely hundred-year old vintage he’d found on one of his trips to France). “And I’m an _ angel_, aren’t all children supposed to like angels?”

Crowley snorts into his own glass and gives him a grin. “You’re an angel, but you’re also just a bit of a bastard as well, don’t deny it. You did try to convince me to off Adam to stop the Apocalypse. Maybe she can tell.”

“I did _ not_...oh, all right, but I didn’t know what else to do. And neither did you! Besides, you’re the one who’s just a bit too nic—”

“Oy, what did I tell you!” the demon hisses. “I am not..._ nice_, I’m an agent of darkness and mischief and, and whatever I want to be an agent of.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. “No, Crowley. You’re not _ nice _ at all. In fact, you’re so _ demonic _ and _ malicious _ you just sang ‘The Itsy Bitsy Spider’ to a three-year-old to put her to bed.”

“It’s a song about spiders! And hopelessness!”

The angel shushes him, nodding to the door of Livy’s room. “If you wake her, I’ll make you sing it again, but with the hand gestures.”

Crowley gives him a particularly rude hand gesture in response, earning himself a throw pillow to the face.  
  


* * *

  
Another day, the demon wakes first in the morning and pads down the hall to peek in at Livy, who’s snoring quietly, and then continues down the hall to Aziraphale’s door. He raises a hand to knock but hesitates, then taps softly.

“Angel, you up?”

The door opens, and a very rumpled-looking Aziraphale peeks out at him with a yawn. The angel’s hair is mussed, his silk pajamas wrinkled, and his wings are still fluffed. He looks like a confused owlet, and the sight does things to Crowley’s poor shriveled heart.

“G’morning, Crowley. Is Livy up?”

They wander to the kitchen, where Aziraphale puts on the kettle and stretches. Crowley floats an apple over his outstretched hand and watches as its peel slowly unfurls in mid-air, one long red spiral that he then chomps down greedily.

A chill, dense rain patters softly at the windows, and Aziraphale sighs as he takes his first sip of oolong. “It’s so gloomy out. Today might be a good day to visit the botanic gardens, don’t you think, my dear? You might find some new plants there.”

“Hrk,” Crowley says, still not used to the endearment. “Ah, er, yes.”

Later, they bundle Livy into her wellies and rain coat and head out. In the tropical plants building, the girl is transfixed by the massive palm trees with their long fronds. She reaches out a small hand to grab one, but Aziraphale stops her and reminds her of the “no touching” rule. She pouts and sulks over to Crowley, tugging on his suit jacket to be picked up and watching him with sullen eyes.

“Ah, they’re so dramatic at that age, aren’t they?” An older woman in a woolen jumper smiles kindly at the angel, nodding to the toddler. “She looks like a handful.”

“Oh, er, well, yes. Is that...common, then?”

The look she gives him now is more knowing. “It’s difficult at that age, to be in a new and strange home. It’s wonderful of you and your partner to adopt her.” 

_ Partner? _ His mouth drops open when he realizes that she’s talking about _ Crowley_, that she thinks they’re a couple, and that Livy is their adopted daughter. “Ah, there may be some confusion, she’s not—we’re not—” But the woman just pats his shoulder and gives him a wink.

“It’s all right, deary, I’ve seen a lot in my day, and I think it’s wonderful that you’re finally able to be in love in the open. You take care of your little angel.” She dodders off, leaving Aziraphale frozen in stunned silence.

“Everything all right, angel?” Crowley says, when he sees Aziraphale’s shock.

“Yes, just...having a realization, that’s all.” _ Just having a realization that even a perfect stranger can see how much I care for you, how much I lo— _ “Are we ready to move to the next building? Everyone all set? Let’s continue on, then, shall we?” he babbles, suddenly leaping into motion and heading towards the exit.

“Cuckoo,” Livy tells Crowley, and he tells her that yes, Mr. Aziraphale is acting rather odd indeed.  
  


* * *

  
The rest of the month passes in a blur of cookie-baking experiments (dough ends up everywhere when Crowley loses control of the electric mixer), leaf scrapbooking (Aziraphale gives one of his unused, blank journals to the girl, and they paste in specimens from their walks and park visits), and bedtime fairy tales (Livy’s favorite seems to be Peter Rabbit; she hops around like a rabbit for twenty minutes the day after they read it).

Back at the cottage, a tanned Newt and a tearful Anathema greet their daughter, hugging her tightly and inspecting her for any visible damage. Crowley gestures and her bags float into the house, headed for the girl’s room, while Aziraphale hands Newt her leaf book and the stuffed Peter Rabbit doll Crowley had given to her.

The house seems empty when they return, the door to Livy’s room shut. (Relieved that their daughter had seemed to thrive in the angel and demon’s care, they’d resolved to set up regular playdate weekends to get some time to themselves every now and then, so the room remained, tucked away in another dimension until needed).

Aziraphale sits in his armchair in the living room and eats a slice of chocolate torte for dinner, while Crowley gets his nourishment from a nice scotch. Out of the corner of his eye, the demon catches the angel watching him furtively several times during their meal, until finally he can’t stand it and hisses, “Out with it, angel, you’re twitching like one of thossse dancing bug thingss over there.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Aziraphale replies, wiping his mouth with his napkin and avoiding eye contact.

“You’ve been antsy for days. Are you missing Livy, mister ‘children are unknowable enigmas’?”

“Well, yes, she’s a dear and I’ve grown very fond of her, but…” Aziraphale sighs. “It’s something someone said to me, when we were at the gardens...it’s silly…”

Unbeknownst to the angel, Crowley overheard every word of that conversation, but he’d avoided bringing it up because of Aziraphale’s reaction to the woman’s comments. He waits, holding a breath he doesn’t really need to take, and the silence hangs over them until finally, Aziraphale blurts out, “Iloveyou” and hides his face in his hands.

Crowley exhales in a rush, stunned. He blinks a few times, digesting what the angel had (_finally!_) outright admitted, then clambers over to kneel next to him. “Hey there, angel, it’s all right…” Aziraphale looks up at him and he leans in to press an ever-so-soft kiss to the corner of the angel’s mouth. “I love you too, have since forever, you know,” he whispers.

“Really?” Aziraphale whispers back, eyes wide and terrified.

Crowley answers with another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> I had writer's block all day but finally went with tooth-rotting fluff to mix things up a bit.
> 
> The story "One-Eye, Two-Eyes, and Three-Eyes" by the Brothers Grimm is my favorite fairy tale from childhood.


End file.
